Warcraft: Dawn of the Worldqueen
by BanterHorse
Summary: In the aftermath of Grim Batol, Sinestra is given a new lease on life. Driven by hatred and bitterness, she seeks revenge against her once beloved mate Deathwing. But even as she plots the coup of the ages, shadows gather over the frozen continent of Northrend, threatening to consume the entire world.
1. Consort's Fall

**A/N: **Let me start out by saying this. "I hate Richard Knaak!" There now that is out in the open, let me first state this story starts off with an alternate ending to Night of the Dragon, written by aforementioned defiler of paper and ink. This story was mainly inspired by CII's work in dragging not only Neltharion's rep out of the mud, but also Malygos to a lesser extent.

I was also motivated by reading Sinestra/Sintharia's tragic story, and my rage in how most fanfic writers seem to gloss over her. So I thought it might be a good idea to pull Sinestra out of the shaft and give her another chance. And take a closer examination on who she is, who she was, and who she can become.

* * *

><p>There are screams that cannot be silenced. They rise louder, and louder. It's the sound of a queen betrayed and abandoned, suddenly, long ago. As the screams echoed then through the deep places of Azeroth, they echoed now eternally in her soul. It gouged into the Super-Ego, mutated and distorted the id, penetrated into the deepest and darkest parts of her mind. It slammed into her decayed sanity, it bounced off the loss... her everlasting torment. The Earth Warder is gone. She was alone. Sintharia is dead.<p>

It was easier to live as if she had never been that sad and pathetic dragon, it was comforting to think that this new life would be a better one. And why shouldn't it have been? She was on the cusp of creating a flight of her very own, a far-cry from the one that had cast her aside. She had worked to turn this wonderful dream into reality for the past five centuries.

She existed now as a brutalized mockery of her former self, baring her ultimate shame for all to see. Her name was Sinestra, formerly known as Sintharia, matriarch of the Black Dragonflight.

For the past several centuries Sinestra had been plotting and scheming her return to prominence. She had a dream, a dream of a dragonflight to call her very own; a flight that would sweep the old ones aside and enable her to dominate the world. It was an obsession, all she could think about was the future that would soon be hers to shape, and the children that would lead her to it. To this end she had over the centuries stolen hundreds of eggs from broodmothers of all five flights with the intent of mutating them into the forms that she desired.

And she had been successful, and in that moment she had felt joy. Dargonax had been born. The name meant 'devourer' in the ancient tongue of dragonkind, and to him it was most fitting; for Dargonax had an insatiable vampiric appetite for power. But in the end, he had just been a single step in her ultimate design of perfection, and such knowledge had infuriated him.

The end of her dreams came as they always did, on the crimson wings of a dragon she had learned to despise almost as much as the one that had mutilated her long ago. Korialstrasz.

Sinestra had watched in abject horror as she watched the culmination of her efforts blow up in her face. Literally. Dargonax, her 'son' as she had affectionately labeled him, was dying and determined to take her down with him whether she liked it or not. Her old enemy, the red wyrm Korialstrasz consort of the Aspect of Life, accompanied by his mortal allies had thwarted her designs yet again, and it looked like this time it would be for keeps. Suffice to say Sinestra was angry, she had endured too much pain and torment for it all to amount to nothing now. Fate couldn't be that cruel.

Dargonax had rebelled against her, goaded on by her nemesis. The sudden attack had taken her by surprise, and her treacherous creation had landed a blow on her belly that had nearly eviscerated her.

But then, such betrayal was not by any means new to her. She had gotten particularly adept at surviving it, especially when it came from her own family. Yes she considered Dargonax as a 'son' mostly because nearly all of her true children were now dead, and there was not a black wyrm on Azeroth that would consent to give her more. Additionally the very thought of mating was terrifying for her, especially considering the manner in which she had earned her eternally burning scars.

But Dargonax was also dying, he was destabilizing and soon he would collapse in on himself, likely taking her with him. It was in this moment that Sinestra realized she had been duped. The voice in her head... it was laughing. It was the laughter of the one being in all of Azeroth she hated above all others; Deathwing. She had been used, coerced into creating this creature for her former mate's designs. And now she was being cast aside. Tears of rage stained her ruined face as she flew hard to keep Dargonax at a distance; the pain, the humiliation, it was all coming back to her. She had failed in the most damning way possible. Korialstrasz _damn his scales _had been right all along.

He was chasing her into the sky above Grim Batol. Her wounds were slowing her down. It was at this juncture she was presented with a choice. She could either try to make a break for the mountains, or she could stand and fight. Kill her son.

Something in her rebelled at the notion, told her that to strike down her son would be an unforgivable crime. She also noted that it was the same voice that had put her in this mess. Deathwing – even as she was reaching the end of her rope – still sought to obfuscate her will. She would not have any of it.

She glanced back. Dargonax was gaining on her, eyes alight with loathing and desperation. She continued to laboriously thrust herself skyward. _Just a little longer. _

Blood pounded through her ear plates, winds tore at her mutilated body, heat gathered in her crop in anticipation. _Not yet._

The thudding report of Dargonax's wings filled her ears, then she felt it. The air seemed to jump away, as the great Twilight phased back into corporeal form. _**Now!**_

She twisted suddenly in the air, ignoring the screaming agony that coursed across her abdomen as the tears Dargonax had rent upon her belly stretched with the movement. Apparently this act surprised Dargonax, who faltered a moment before her magma breath into his angered face.

"You are no child of mine..." she hissed angrily, "You are just another failure. And I tend to all of my mistakes." Sintharia opened her maw and once more unleashed a blast of viscous lava, the powerful variation of the natural breath weapon that only the mightiest of the Black Dragonflight could wield was devastating. The molten rock splashed upon Dargonax's multi-hued hide, burning him and weighing him down.

"I will not endure Deathwing's duplicity and treachery any longer!" She roared, tears still streaming from her eyes as she watched Dargonax flail and fall. All this time she had thought she had been acting of her own free will, she had forsaken her life, her family, her Flight, and even her own name to get away from the infernal beast that had defiled her so long ago. And it had all been for naught, he had still used her anyway. Now she had nothing.

Dargonax recovered and roared angrily as he tried to gain height on her, Sinestra would not let him. All she had to do was wait until he finally fell to pieces, then victory would be hers.

"You will not escape me!" Dargonax raged as he pumped his wings harder, his body suddenly recontaining it's energies, his eyes blazed burning red in a manner that reminded her of Deathwing. Sinestra balked in shock, _'How did he restabilize himself?!' _it defied all logic; what had she created? Truly she had created the ultimate monstrosity, a bane to all dragons, to all creatures that walked this world. He would devour them all, just as his name implied.

_You cannot beat us._

_You cannot find us._

_You cannot hide._

_You cannot run._

_You will succumb._

_Before the Hour of Twilight, falls!_

Six terrible voices laughed in unison.

Dargonax flew up to her with a powerful burst of his massive wings, phasing out of reality as he did so. His incorporeal nature meant the lava that had been weighing him down simply fell off of him. Sinestra tried to erect a shield around her, anything to keep her rampant creation at bay.

Korialstrasz had nearly sucked down his own tongue when he saw Dargonax recover from his seemingly imminent destabilization, and his heart sank deep in his chest. _'Is there anything that can stop this abomination?' _he thought furiously. Sintharia was clearly trying to do just that, but she was failing. Sintharia was strong, perhaps the most powerful black dragon left alive now that Deathwing was gone. But she was also badly injured and would not last long against the ravenous twilight dragon. It would indeed be poetic justice, for Sintharia to meet her end at the claws of her profane 'child', she had caused more than enough evil to deserve such a fate.

He watched as Dargonax slammed into her, eliciting a shriek of rage from the disfigured dragoness. Before she could disengage, the massive Twilight grabbed hold of her from behind, hugging her close to his chest.

"You thought you could control me," Dargonax growled, "You thought you could replace me, that you could create children more magnificent than I!" He tightened his embrace on Sintharia as her struggles increased.

"Release me you ungrateful whelp!" The enraged black demanded. Dargonax responded by producing a dark purple corona around his body, a look of rapturous delight in his eyes. _He's draining her! _Korialstrasz realized.

Sinestra writhed as Dargonax greedily feasted on her energy, savoring it as he slowly siphoned it out of her body.

_"__Scream for me!" _Dargonax gloated as he squeezed her tighter. Sinestra in that moment panicked, those words and they way he said them, invoked memories so horrible that all she could feel was the agony that could only come from being burned alive. She clawed and bit, giving her all in an attempt to break free of the abomination.

It was a stupid way to die. To be made a victim of her own hubris, to know that Deathwing – in the end – would be profiting from her misforune. Truly, life was a bitch; even more so than herself.

Dargonax was too strong for her, there was no escaping from his vice-like embrace. As the strength was leeched from her, she felt something feeling against her mind, coming from Dargonax, and yet it was not Dargonax. It pierced her crumbling mental wards and her vision fell to darkness.


	2. Mytheria

Sinestra awoke to the sound of rushing water, the gentle whisper of summer winds over rock, and the rumble of lava beneath the earth. Her eyes fluttered open tiredly, focusing against the sunlight reflecting brightly against stone. Tiredly she rose up and took a look at her surroundings. Her eyes widened at what they beheld. The Obsidian Sanctum.

It was the Sanctum as it used to be, everything was as she distantly remembered it. Bright sun and blue skies over a rugged volcanic landscape. Columnar basalt flows stretched upwards like masses of polygonal fingers, hot springs, geysers, and bubbling mud volcanoes dotted the floor of an immense caldera. Along the crater's rim were the mouths of many caves, which was where the Sanctum's purpose was fulfilled.

The Obsidian Sanctum was a refuge for all in the Black Dragonflight, it was the oasis in the desert, the island in a stormy sea; it was where a dragon could find peace. It also served as a place where broodmothers could lay their clutches, and raise their whelps in safety. In days long gone by, Sinestra remembered this place as always bustling with activity, families of dragons and dragonspawn playing, training, and carrying on the work of their charge over Azeroth.

But when Neltharion fell, and Deathwing rose in his place, everything changed. The Sanctum had mutated into a place of discord and destruction, it was no longer a safe place to raise whelps, it had become a dead realm. There was no broodmother left in the flight that would ever consider seeking sanctuary in that fallen place.

To see it now as it was before, had brought a sense of blissful nostalgia into her heart. Unbidden memories of being surrounded by her children came to her, she had felt such happiness then.

She shook off the foreign feelings. This was not right, where was Dargonax? She distinctly recalled being leeched by the treacherous felspawn before blacking out. There was also something else amiss: she felt no pain.

Pain had been her closest companion in the last ten-thousand years, the scars Deathwing gave her had been a remorseless source of unending agony. Never once had the pain lessened or intensified, and it had been more than enough to produce more than a few psychological issues. This sudden relief from the torment was mind blowing, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

She looked at herself, and noted with chagrin that the scars remained. Sinestra had long ago surrendered to the idea that she would bear them for the rest of her existence, as a bitter reminder of the past. She moved experimentally, flexing her fore and hind limbs; she noted with some surprise that the hitch in her right shoulder was no longer there, the result of an injury sustained in battle with Korialstrasz a number of centuries ago.

Sinestra then crouched low, the muscles in her hind legs coiling. She then pushed up with a mighty downbeat of her wings, she lost altitude for a brief moment before leveling out and angling her flight path along the right rim of the caldera. Her keen eyes swept the rugged terrain for any sign of life. There was nothing.

_Sintharia..._

Sinestra stopped and hovered, head twisting around for the source of the voice who called her by her discarded name. Her eyes fixed upon a hill in the center of the caldera with a wide cave mouth leading deep into the earth. It was a cave she knew very well. With a moment of hesitation she turned about and flew down towards the hill and it's solitary cave. Her anxiety grew as she flew down to the cave entrance, her heart hammered in her chest.

This was her cave.

This was _their _cave.

"Quite a sight, isn't it Sinthie?" A chipper feminine voice asked right next to her. Sinestra nearly jumped out of her scales in surprise, she leaped away and rounded on the stranger, teeth bared and crop flaring with the promise of fiery death. But when she saw who it was, the bottom dropped from under her mind. It was a large female black dragon, her scales shimmered like polished pewter, and her bright amethyst eyes possessed an expression of profound cherubic joy. A golden diadem rested over upon her narrow skull, inlaid with precious stones, her gently curving horns had titanic runes lovingly carved into the surface.

"Ma-Mytheria?!" Sinestra blurted, backing away from the dragon. In life, Mytheria had been one of her fellow consorts before the Sundering, she along with three others had shared the task in mating with the Earth-Warder once every twenty years. Mytheria had been the youngest, being only twelve-thousand years old at the time of her death.

"What is wrong, sister? You look like you have seen a ghost!" the younger wyrm chirped pleasantly. Mytheria had been the unfaltering optimist of the sisterhood, always ready to cheer her up when she was feeling doubts or depression, she had been blessed to have her as a friend. And losing her, had moved Sinestra beyond the scope of grief.

* * *

><p><em>A darkened curtain of clouds filled the sky, rain pelted her scales and ran down in sheets along her wings. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling the coming of the perfect storm.<em> _Sintharia had her head bent low as she gazed upon the broken, ravaged form laying before her._

_ Open wounds burning with the heat of the deepest volcano marked her hide, a rent in the gut spilled charred intestines upon the blackened earth, wings torn from the sockets and discarded, spine twisted unnaturally. And yet she lived._

_ Sintharia's mind rebelled at the sight. Those bright, spirited eyes once filled to the bursting with light and love, now only held pain and unfathomable misery. Her spirit just as ruined as her flesh. The stench of blood, cooked meat, and evacuated bowels filled the air, stinging her nose as her eyes wept, tears hidden by the rain striking her face._

'Neltharion,' _she thought miserably, _'Why are you doing this to us?'

_The loving, kind mate she had known for thirty-seven thousand years was gone. Replaced by a monstrosity of fire and infinite madness. _

_ "I... tried..." Mytheria rasped, "... to get... through to him... failed" she took a rattling breath, "Suh... sorry."_

_ She was beyond healing, no amount of restorative elemental power could heal such damage. _

_ "Do... it..." Mytheria whispered, her eyes pleading, "Finish... it..."_

_ Sintharia's heart shattered in her chest, "Goodbye... sister." Her claw rose, and slashed downward, bright crimson splashed against her chest scales. A golden heart – one of the purest and bravest in the flight – stopped beating._

_ Sintharia gathered her friend's violated corpse in her claws, head bent low, tears anointing her brow as the black queen shook with emotional agony. Her head canted upward and she screamed out a mourning wail._

_ It was a scream that could not be silenced._

* * *

><p>Sinestra stood gaping at her friend of old, "You are dead."<p>

Mytheria cocked her head, "So I am."

There was a pregnant moment of silence, "Am I dead?"

"Almost but not quite," the deceased consort replied smoothly, "Dargonax, that charming 'son' of yours is trying to squeeze you dry at the moment, your life force is being bolstered by a very gracious benefactor."

The former consort of the Earth-Warder blinked in confusion, "If I am being drained, why am I here in the old Sanctum?"

"This is your mindscape Sintharia, when you lost consciousness, your mind conjured surroundings you equated to safety, time here is at a standstill for the moment. So you need not worry." But she did worry, she was for the first time in a long time completely out of her depth. Everything she had striven for lay in shambles, and now she was conversing with the dead.

"And what of this... benefactor?" Sinestra asked, liking this situation less by the second.

Mytheria clucked her tongue teasingly, "This is the first time we have talked in a hundred centuries, and you can't bring yourself to ask me how I have been all this time?" She answered in mock hurt, "I don't know who he is, but he seems to really know you."

Sinestra growled deep in her throat. She absolutely despised being at the mercy of anyone, it made her feel exposed, weak. Independence was everything to her, the last ten-thousand years had taught her that she could only depend on herself, and the thought that her life now depended on some unknown being frustrated her.

"Should I suspect that this... intruder be expecting a boon for this favor?" Sinestra demanded, her voice becoming as ice. She also hated paying people, it was far more sensible to enslave them. Before taking leave of the Black Dragonflight, Sinestra was one of the highest in the pecking order, and was used to getting what she wanted, immediately, no arguments. And when she could stand Deathwing's incessant manipulations no longer, she kept this expectation. Everything existed for her to use as she saw fit. It was in the end the least she deserved for all the hell she has endured up to this point, and if any disagreed she was more than happy to take what she wanted by force.

"I don't know," Mytheria admitted, "I came because I felt your life ebbing away, I have been wandering this world in limbo ever since... that day."

"You mean the day that you threw your life away?" Sinestra sneered derisively.

"I know that my death, and the deaths of the others has weighed heavily on you over the millenia. Junaria, Irona, titans even Seraphia-"

"Do _not _say her name!" Sinestra roared with utter loathing, "That traitor deserved _everything_ Deathwing did to her!" she turned angrily away from Mytheria, "And the only thing I lament about you Mytheria, is your idiocy! I told you to stay away from Him!"

Mytheria brushed off the hurtful insult with a soft huff, ruffling her wings as she stood straighter, "I went to my death seeking lord Neltharion, the mate that we all loved, but only truly loved you. I could not reconcile the caring Aspect I knew with the monster he became, I believed that there had to be something left of him, that the madness could be cured." her head dipped low, "I couldn't reach him."

"Because there was nothing there!" Sinestra snarled, wheeling around and fixing her golden eyes upon her deceased friend, "I loved that beast with all my heart, I bore his children for thousands of years! And he betrayed me! Betrayed us! He took the paradisaical world we created for ourselves and he burned it! He burned it until nothing of it remained but His laughter! You cannot save that which never existed in the first instance."

Mytheria stepped closer, "Where you see treachery, I saw only sickness my sister. A sickness that ran so deep, it befouled the elements themselves. It is the same sickness that I see in the members of our flight, as more slip into the Beyond." she shot a hard look at Sinestra, "You too are sick, sister. But I believe there is still hope for you."

Sinestra narrowed her eyes dangerously, "Is that why you come to me? To absolve me of my sins?" the black matriarch said mockingly, "This is the only path left to me Mytheria, all I have left is my vengeance, all that matters to me is vengeance. Even if it takes ten-thousand more years I will have satisfaction! Keep your hopes to yourself."

Then Mytheria did something Sinestra did not expect, she rushed forward and threw her forelimbs around her neck, hugging her. Sinestra was so shocked she couldn't even move, then Mytheria whispered to her, "My hope remains, sister. Because I will always have faith in you even if you have none. In life I always looked up to you as a friend, and as a source of succor; let me be those things for you now Sintharia, I will not abandon you."

Many things ran through Sinestra's mind in that instant; to violently lash out at the dragon who had dared to touch her, and the sudden urge to collapse into tears being foremost among them. But she could not move or act, for she was feeling something that she had not felt in ages; solidarity. Back when she was with the flight, she had been a loner. After what Deathwing had done to her, she had lost the ability to trust anyone but herself; it had been a harsh, cruel existence.

No.

This was not right; none of this was ever meant for her. She shrunk away from Mytheria's revoltingly comfortable embrace, a hard look entering her eyes. Mytheria returned her gaze with a sad expression. "I suppose it was too much to hope for; convincing you with just one conversation."

"I must stay true to my path!" Sinestra growled, reaffirming herself. Now was not the time to succumb to these weak emotions and sordid memories, "And neither you or the Titans themselves will make me flee from it! I will have Deathwing's life for what he has done to me, I will ruin him as he has ruined me!"

Mytheria bowed her head morosely, "It pains me to hear that," she said, "If that is your stance, I will take my leave of you for now. The one who holds your fate in his claws waits for you at the nesting chamber, you should go to him."

Before Sinestra could reply, Mytheria evaporated away like a summer mist. She was alone again. Hardening her heart, Sinestra proceeded into the cavern, guided by old memories.


	3. Reality Check

The Caverns of the Earth-Warder had been her home once. It existed at the heart of the Obsidian Sanctum, just as Neltharion had existed as the heart of Azeroth. Little could compare to the beauty of the Caverns, it was not simply a network of caves, it was a work of art, painstakingly crafted and tended to by one of the greatest minds Azeroth had ever seen, every iota of Neltharion's advanced knowledge of geology and planetary dynamics had gone into the home he made for himself and his consorts.

Relief images carved upon the walls showed impossibly detailed vistas that Neltharion held in certain regard, beaches, mountains, plains, seabeds, once the Earth-Warder saw something he liked, he made certain it was never forgotten. And there were the crystals. Their faceted forms grew from the ceiling and the sides of the walls close to the floor, all of them glowed brightly with colors that ranged the breadth of the visible spectrum, and they were constantly slowly shifting into lighter and darker shades, differences that could only be detectable by a dragon or similarly sharp eyed being. This was all her doing. One of the first things she had done after becoming Prime Consort had been redecorating this place.

Her memories of this place felt like those from a completely different life. It infuriated her – to have recollections of things that had brought her joy; things she can never have again. She had not been lying to Mytheria when she had told her that the only worthwhile thing she had left was her vision of retribution. She had spent many centuries fantasizing her glorious victory over her sad metallic shell of a former mate. Her dreams were of her claws sinking into his flesh, her teeth closing upon his neck, and of visiting horrors of such screaming perfection upon him – she felt giddy each time she woke up. When she had heard the claims that he had died, she felt great disappointment – but great pleasure at the fact she had outlived him. But now she knew that was not the case.

Fury bubbled within her as her thoughts turned upon her current predicament. She was trapped in her own mind while a monster of her own creation greedily feasted upon her life force. And now she was to confront her mysterious benefactor, who by his position now held considerable power over her.

The last time she had been in this kind of position, she had ended up being enslaved for several centuries by an arrogant young wyrm twenty-thousand years her junior, the humiliation she had endured in that time was beyond the scope of words. In time she eventually rebelled against her 'benefactor' and then hired some goblins to skin the miserable creature alive, along with his entire progeny. That had been a wonderful day.

But the lesson learned then was clear: any deal made at the end of a lifeline only lead to more trouble.

Sinestra wished she could will this scenery away, memories that she would rather be left forgotten were far too close to the surface here for her liking. Sinestra had spent many sleepless decades feverishly convincing herself that the warm bliss of her past had never happened. It was much easier to live in the belief you never had anything, than to live with the fact you had lost everything. In the end, living a lie was more comfortable.

Following the tunnel down, the temperature got progressively higher as she descended. She was getting close to the Earth Warder's personal sanctum. Anxiety tugged at her thoughts with every step, and the memories got harder to keep at bay. How many times had she walked this path with her fellow consorts? How many times had she come to this place to sate her former mate's need? Such thoughts continued to intrude upon her as she came closer to her destination.

Eventually the floor evened out, and the tunnel ran straight ahead, at it's end sat an immense circular door made of solid granite, completely featureless save for a draconic rune whose identity had lost all meaning to Sinestra; Sanctuary.

She stood before the door, and reluctantly seeped deeper into the past.

_"Daas multz iif gri. Ahmik ruulz fau-dein." _She recited. The granite door slowly rolled out of the way, revealing the chamber that lay beyond.

Trepidation stayed her feet for a few minutes. Sinestra feared what effect going into that room would have on her already sputtering sense of identity. But in the end she had little choice left but to press onwards. She slowly padded into the Earth Warder's sanctuary.

It was an immense space. More than enough room for her to fly around and perform aerial acrobatics if she was of a mind. Set into the ceiling was an immense ruby, luminous and flawless. It's perfect faucets reflected squares of reddish light upon the ceiling, walls, and benignly smooth floor. The walls like the tunnels were engraved, but instead of landscapes there were dragons. The Black Dragonflight. Each image represented every black dragon that had ever existed prior to Deathwing's betrayal. Sinestra averted her eyes from their stony gazes, looking down upon her, judging her.

Her attention shifted to the adjacent tunnel, the one that would take her to the nesting chamber. Sinestra walked towards it, determined not to let this place get to her more than it already has. But as she crossed the middle of the Sanctuary, her foot fell into a shallow depression on the floor. Her gaze shifted downward and her eyes widened in recognition.

Two depressions lay in the middle of the floor, one larger than the other. Both made from thousands of years of two enormous scaly bodies resting down in the same places. Her vision flashed and took her to the distant past.

* * *

><p><em>If she could hold one moment forever in time, this would be it. Sintharia was surrounded by warmth, it seeped deep into her bones and filled her with vitality. The sounds of deep, powerful, but relaxed breaths caressed her ear plates. Her eyes flashed slowly open, hoping to capture the sight of her beloved as he slept.<em>

_ Clear emerald green eyes gazed back at her, lit from within by light that rivaled the brightest of stars; testament to the awesome power their owner wielded. Neltharion the Earth Warder gave his Prime Consort a wide goofy grin. "Morning, my queen."_

_ Sintharia leaned forward and rubbed her snout against his, eyes closed in delight, "There are no mornings here, my love," she replied sweetly, trying to convey every inch of her passion for him with one simple touch. Neltharion's throat thrummed with pleasure as he empathically received his mate's strong emotions. This was what true love felt like. This was perfection._

_ "That can be changed," the black aspect replied, "But I hardly think the rest of the flight would approve."_

_ "Where is the rest of the Sisterhood?" Sintharia asked, referring to her fellow consorts. For the last few days, all five of them had been tending to the Earth Warder. The reason why Neltharion needed several mates was because when he entered the rut, he became too much for one dragoness to handle alone, when one consort reached her limit, another would come in to replace her so she could recuperate. By her position as Prime Consort, Sintharia had been at the center of the action, and it had taken a great toll on her body. She doubted she would be walking normally again any time soon._

_ "I sent them away," Neltharion answered, "I feared that I pushed you too hard, my need was much more potent than usual."_

_ Sintharia chuckled, "You caught us off guard, true," she made an effort to lean in closer to him, "We were tempted halfway in to have Ysera come over and have you sleep it off."_

_ Neltharion covered his face with a claw, "Thank the Titans you didn't, that would have been embarrassing!"_

_ The black matriarch growled in amusement, "We decided instead to call out to the Crimson Escort," she said, referring to the seven consorts of Alexstrasza. Of all the aspects, the Dragonqueen was the most intense when it came to the mating cycle, "Tyranastrasz was sympathetic to our plight and agreed to act as healer."_

_ Neltharion sighed deeply, "I thought I smelled someone else in here. I'm sorry you had to do that, my love."_

_ Sintharia bowed her head, "We will be prepared for you next time, I'm not upset my lord, some parts were rather satisfying, it's not every cycle we get to perform before an audience, I think Tyranastrasz was rather impressed."_

_ "His opinions matter little," Neltharion said gruffly as he stood up, "Now stay right there, I will get you something to eat." Sintharia was suddenly aware of how really hungry she was, starving actually._

_ "No need, I can have one of the guardians-" Sintharia began, but Neltharion cut her off with a pleading look._

_ "Please, my mate. Let me do this, it is the least I can do for you. From this point, until you are completely recovered __I_ _am at __your_ _service." The Earth Warder stated, bowing his head deferentially to her._

_ The black dragoness adopted a contemplative look before a mischievous look entered her eyes, "Well in that case, my scales need some buffing done, the floor temperature should be raised twenty-six more degrees, this chamber must also be brought back up to code, and there is also the matter of my new dress code..."_

_ "I'm going to regret this aren't I?" The Earth Warder asked, amusement entering his expression._

_ "It's a really pretty dress." Sintharia assured him._

* * *

><p>The memory faded, and Sinestra was left at a complete loss for words. The powerful emotions she had felt then, resounded in her now and she could not escape them. She had forgotten what it had felt like; how it felt to love, and be loved.<p>

Sinestra in defense of her remaining sanity, rarely ruminated on the memories of her former life. They were memories of a dragon who had long ago ceased to be. In that spirit, Sinestra had tried her best to forget, even going so far as abandoning her original name; anything to forget about ever having felt such happiness, knowing she would never feel such completion ever again.

"_He never loved you."_

"_Neltharion was false!"_

"_You were nothing more than breeding chattel to him."_

"_He was a failure as a mate, and as a leader!"_

"_Nobody loves you, nobody ever wanted you."_

"_Sleep now, your days are done."_

Sinestra felt lethargy suddenly come over her incorporeal self, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to slip away, to forever be lost to the void. It felt like the most logical thing in the world to simply bow her head and succumb.

Six monstrous fingers of darkness pierced the walls of the dream, seeking her out like sharks scenting blood in the water. She knew instinctively that if they seized her, she would never escape them. She tried to run, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot.

Despair clung to her being as she began to realize that she had absolutely nothing left to live for, the Neltharion of old was gone, most of her children either dead or in exile, no allies, no purpose. Perhaps she would find comfort in death. Maybe there she could find what life had for so long denied her.

Slowly Sinestra settled down into the smaller depression, noting how empty it felt without the Earth Warder. With a feeling of finality, Sinestra lowered her head to the floor and allowed her heavy eyelids to fall shut. The dark tendrils closed around her, and she awaited release.

_**STOP!**_

The powerful, familiar voice galvanized Sinestra from her stupor. It was a call that echoed throughout the mindscape, with a force that the image bent and distorted around her. The dark tendrils closing around her receded, six voices howled in outrage.

Sinestra tentatively got to her feet again. Unsure of what had just happened. The darkness was still there, it's tainted essence swirling around her like a ravenous beast. She gazed at it fearfully, it's very presence chilled her soul.

_"Do not resist..."_

_ "Let us end your pain..."_

_ "Accept the gift we offer..."_

_ "The world will go on without you..."_

_ "And with your death..."_

_ "Comes the end of all things mortal..."_

Sinestra backed away from the darkness. "I am not finished yet," she said, before turning around and heading towards the passage at the other end of the room. Towards the nesting chamber.

* * *

><p>The nesting chamber was directly beneath the mating chamber. It's floor was located beneath an artificial magma chamber composed of sixty-percent ferrous slurry and forty-percent molten rock. The floor temperature was ideal for the incubation of black dragon eggs. There were many strong memories attached to this place.<p>

It was here that all of Sinestra's misbegotten children had been born. The great dragoness seethed with impotent anger as the memories surrounded her, her dream body trembled and flickered when one made it's painful passage through her conscious mind. Sinestra was beginning to fear that she was starting to lose herself.

The chamber was circular, with a rounded ceiling that detailed a panoramic representation of the night sky. Small perfectly shaped diamonds studded the surface, some brighter than others to indicate constellations, and planets. It was the sky as it appeared from the Well of Eternity during the height of Winter Solstice.

"At last you have come," a voice growled from the shadows, near the end of the chamber.

Sinestra redirected her gaze, just in time to see a familiar face catch the light. The dragon had a narrow skull, with a beak like snout that supported flaring nostrils. His eyes were pure white and lit from within, radiating power not native to Azeroth. His scales were a mixture of cerulean, black, and ashen white. It was a face Sinestra knew very well.

"Zzeraku," Sinestra choked out.

The Nether dragon known as Zzeraku was native to the broken realm of Outland, born from a black dragon egg exposed to the strange energies that imbued the shattered world. Zzeraku's exposure to the chaotic power had made the dragon mature far faster than was normal, and gifted him with truly extraordinary abilities. Abilities that had piqued Sinestra's interest. It had been a latchkey discovery that had propelled her personal project beyond her wildest imaginings. Sinestra had captured Zzeraku so that she could siphon his energy to feed the then fledgling Dargonax. Zzeraku had escaped confinement with the aid of a meddling alien priestess, and shortly thereafter engaged Dargonax in a fierce duel which saw the weakened nether dragon consumed by her empowered creation.

"I cannot tell you how deliciously ironic it is to see you like this," the nether dragon spoke, "Long have I dreamed of you getting your comeuppance, ever since the day you took me from my home. Though I wish it had been me to deliver your downfall."

"How- how is this possible?! I saw you die!" Sinestra exclaimed, her mind reeling with implications.

"Your abominable child may have dissolved my body, but who I am remains untouched," the nether dragon said as he advanced upon her. Sinestra dared not move, she knew that Zzeraku held every possible advantage here, and he could doom her at a whim. But Sinestra refused to be cowed easily.

"Is this why you spare me, Dargonax's hunger? To gloat?" She shot back, "Titans damn you and all your kind mutant!"

Zzeraku to her outrage merely chuckled, "I am not here to reiterate the enormity of your error, my fallen jailer. I have spent many days exposed to your brutality and insanity, yet I never glimpsed the true essence of who you are."

Zzeraku stopped alongside her, and ran a claw paralell to a blazing gouge on her shoulder, Sinestra's dream self felt no pain, but she still instinctively recoiled from the contact. Zzeraku continued his inspection, and Sinestra stayed silent, too busy gauging his intent to formulate a response.

"Yet what I have found only brings me more unanswered questions. So I have to ask; do you even know who you are?"

That was a question Sinestra had not been expecting. The black dragoness rarely spent time on introspection, and had long ago ceased to question the things she did. She held the past at face value, and never bothered to draw anything out of it more than what was readily appearent; Deathwing betrayed her, the world abandoned her; both would pay. Everything she did had been justified.

"Who I am is inconsequential," Sinestra answered, "I have no need to justify myself to you."

The irritating mutant simply shook his head, "You really don't know do you? Then let me enlighten you," Zzeraku turned to face her, "You Sinestra, are a self obsessed coward enslaved not to Deathwing, but to the lies you have surrounded yourself in!"

Sinestra reared up, anger flashing in her golden eyes, "You dare-!"

"Yes!" Zzeraku snapped powerfully, "For ten-thousand years you have done nothing but run away, denying everything that brought you the slightest bit of additional discomfort! Your past, your family, even your own name!" Zzeraku said, disdain dripping from every word. "Everything that brought you here to this point, all of it is _your _fault!"

"That's not true, it's Death-" Sinestra began defensively, but her former captive cut her off.

"No, of course not. It's always someone else's fault, isn't it? It makes it so much easier to justify your own atrocities." he sneered condescendingly, "Yet for all your evasion. You still could not stop Him from using you as he always did."

Those words cut deep. Part of her wished to challenge these claims, to deny everything that Zzeraku was saying about her. But the rest of her wanted to put an end to the pain, to finally let go before slipping into the embrace of death.

"Just... get it over with!" She growled, "This means nothing to me!"

The nether dragon looked at her sternly, "I think it means everything to you. You have not only forgotten yourself, you have forgotten what it means to be a dragon! How much of yourself must you discard and deny before you realize that!"

"Please... stop this," Sinestra said quietly, her voice weak.

Zzeraku touched her on the shoulder again, this time she did not flinch, "You have been running ever since the day Deathwing broke you, just this once Sinestra, stop running."

Zzeraku's words had reduced the once proud dragoness to an emotional wreck. The carefully fabricated walls of denial and warped perception she had erected around herself to insulate her from reality were crumbling down; revealing to Zzeraku what he had sought all along. Beneath the layers of deceit and corruption he saw a defeated queen, a frail scarred heart that was burdened by too many memories, and not enough hope.

"You need not die like this," Zzeraku spoke soothingly, "I offer you escape."

"How?" Sinestra asked, her voice hollow.

Zzeraku was silent for a moment, "By melding my essence... to yours."

Sinestra bowed her head low, gazing at the floor of the dreamscape, reflecting on her life, and the choice that lay in front of her. Zzeraku was right about her, for too long she had been running away. Filling her thoughts with hatred that lay impotent, and revenge fantasies that she lacked the will to see through. Deathwing's shadow eclipsed her no matter how hard she tried to escape it. It was time to make a stand.

"What are your terms?" She asked, looking up at him.

"You will destroy Dargonax," Zzeraku replied, "And when that is done, you will transfer what is left of my essence to the draenei priestess Iridi. After that you will leave, you will harm neither her, or her friends. Do we have an accord?"

Sinestra did not hesitate, "Do it."

Zzeraku was silent. He slowly breathed in and his form began to dissolve into an amorphous mass of blue-green luminous fog. It wrapped around her body and softly touched the core of her being. Sinestra's world exploded with light, the nesting chamber evaporated away, leaving her alone in the center of nothingness. The light tore at the darkness that had plagued her for so long, washed away taint that had long gone unseen. As the pressure weighing down her soul lifted, Sinestra closed her eyes one last time.

It was Sintharia who opened them again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sinestra falls, and Sintharia lives again. Next chapter, Sintharia teaches Dargonax her definition of the word Aggro.**


	4. Disjunction Part 1

The waking world slammed into Sintharia with all the subtlety of a war maul. Sounds, smells, and tactile feeling blasted across her awareness. She was immediately aware that she was still held in the clutches of Dargonax, the disloyal creature uttered a grunt of surprise when it suddenly realized it was no longer siphoning power from his creator, quite the opposite. Liquid fire surged through Sintharia's veins as a portion of Zzeraku's might was torn from Dargonax, and directed into her body.

"I-Will-Not-Be-Defeated!" Sintharia roared, as the energy pooled in her chest, before being unleashed. A primal explosion of kinetic force blasted Dargonax away. Sintharia experienced a momentary freefall before her own wings snapped open, and she glided down towards the ground. She landed roughly upon the scorched earth, her claws sinking deeply into the blackened dirt.

Dargonax was much less graceful. He hit the ground hard on his left side, skidding dozens of meters before coming to a stop. For a moment, Sintharia dared to hope the fall had incapacitated him, but her hopes were dashed as the aberration slowly – painfully – got to his feet, and looked back over to her with eyes burning of murderous intent.

Despite herself Sintharia was feeling rather elated. The scars Deathwing had inflicted upon her had guttered out, quenched by Zzeraku's alien essence. They were now charred black rents, ugly and cauterized; Sintharia could already tell that the scars would never trouble her again.

As the power surged through her, Sintharia began to perceive something she had not felt in a very long time. It came from the rushing waterfalls, the wind gusting through the valley, from the roots of the mountains themselves. Azeroth was singing to her.

It was not a pretty composition. Beats were missing, notes ended sourly, and components were either not present or working incorrectly, and the conductor was absent. The entire composition was flawed, it was the music of a world that had long been bereft of it's custodian. In any other situation, the dragoness would be at a loss on how to begin reconnecting with her Titan given abilities, but Zzeraku's influence made for an excellent foil for her atrophied scope of knowledge.

Sintharia and her passenger reached for the primal energy, one thought clear in her mind; she needed healing.

Summoned by their conjoined will, ten tendrils of water rose up from the ground, drawn from the damp earth, a subterranean river, and the air. Each was thick around as the trunk of an aged oak, responding to her will they wrapped around her brutalized body. Had a shaman been present to witness this, they would have likened the conjuration to a variation of the 'Healing Surge' ramped up to a massive scale. The water, infused with restorative and cleansing energies cascaded across her hide; scales were washed clean, the body mended itself, scars old and new faded.

* * *

><p>From his vantage point, Korialstrasz watched in amazement at Sintharia's renewal. Sintharia had been well known for her grotesque appearance, Deathwing's attack had seared lasting inflammatory scars into her flesh, and half her face had been melted off in that particular encounter. And more recently, the demon soul exploded literally in her face, marring everything the fallen Aspect had failed to ruin in his fit of deranged lust.<p>

Korialstrasz only vaguely remembered what she looked like before then, and as her body restored itself under the haze of nether infused liquid, he was finally seeing it again. Her infamous scars knitted together, leaving only slightly visible marks in their passing. The gaping wound Dargonax had rent upon her belly also mended, and unlike her old scars it vanished completely. Her face was also restored, proud and graceful. But while Sintharia may have appeared whole now on the exterior, her golden eyes reflected the open wounds in her psyche, that despite her reclaimed beauty, made her appear utterly terrifying.

* * *

><p>"Alright you little shit, come to mama!" Sintharia goaded, electrical arcs dancing across her body as she tapped further into her long unused natural powers. The elements recoiled at the encroaching touch of her deranged mind, but she cared not as she communed with powers she barely understood anymore. She didn't care that she was likely breaking at least a dozen rules of the old Black Dragonflight, she just wanted Dargonax to die.<p>

_**'Sister! Don't do this!' **_Mytheria's spectral voice rang in her head. _**'They aren't meant to be used like that!'**_

Dargonax answered her challenge with a throaty bellow as he charged her, his wings downbeating as he struggled to lift into the air and bear down on her.

"Rise!" Sintharia bellowed.

The earth split open at her call. A hand wreathed in fire, and made of molten stone erupted from the fissure, elongating and striking Dargonax in the chest. Sintharia watched with mounting glee as an immense lumpy form crawled out from the wound in the ground. Giant lava elementals were a singularly destructive breed, the only way to bind them was through the application of immense willpower. In the past, a black dragon with the proper amount of preparation could summon these beings safely; Sintharia wasn't that dragon. Sintharia had forced the elemental to come here, and used the power Zzeraku gifted her to bind it against it's will. Unfortunately it didn't stop there.

"Attack!" Sintharia commanded her new thrall. The lava giant did as it was bade, and lumbered toward Dargonax, a trail of burning devastation brewing in it's wake. Sintharia knew it wouldn't be enough, she needed to dig deeper.

Sintharia took to the skies with relish. As her connection to Azeroth deepened, more and more minions were made to answer her call. The skies darkened, the earth shook, water levels rose. Sintharia grinned wickedly as more elementals came to attack the grounded Dargonax, she would fly overhead and ensure that her 'son' would not be able to escape to the skies. Then, when the elementals wore him down enough, she would finish him off.

* * *

><p>"What the hell is happening?!" Rhonin shouted over the din of howling wind and shifting rock. His mane of red hair tangled in his face as powerful gusts blasted through the valley. Kalec was nearby tending to Iridi's supine form, while Vereesa stood at his side, holding her hood down as the spastic wind tore into it. He did not know what to make of the current situation, Deathwing's prime bitch and her twisted creation had up and decided to ignore them and kill each other for a change, and the result was total chaos.<p>

The land was teeming with berserk elementals of all types, and a few Rhonin had not seen before. All of them apparently summoned by the black consort to overwhelm Dargonax while she played it safe and rained molten destruction from on high.

"She's insane," Kalec said hoarsely, "There is no way anyone can control that many elementals at once!"

"You are welcome to go up and tell her that," Rhonin replied gruffly, "Either way, it is a win, win situation for us. If she kills Dargonax, she'll be weakened and we can put her down with little fuss... although her army of elementals might be a problem."

Deep thunderous beats that vibrated the air broke Rhonin from his train of thought as he gazed upward in time to see Korialstrasz drop from the sky, and land about a dozen yards away. The red leviathan folded his wings and swung his large head towards them.

"My friends, I must advise you to keep your distance," the red rumbled.

"You don't have to tell us twice!" Vereesa called to him.

"I don't understand, how is she doing any of this?!" Kalec demanded.

Korialstrasz was silent as he gazed at Sintharia for a long moment, "That is not the Sintharia we have been fighting, her very nature has changed."

Rhonin blinked in bewilderment, "What, are you saying she is one of the good guys now?" He asked skeptically.

"Titans, no. She is still a rotten bitch as you can plainly see. Her presence is... how can I put this, clean. The vibe of wrongness I felt in her has vanished, somehow Sintharia has been cleansed of the corruption that befouled her Flight thousands of years ago."

Kalec's eyes nearly bugged out at this statement, "How can you say that? Look at her, she has clearly lost her mind! If we don't stop her now, her folly will consume all of us!"

Korialstrasz fixed the currently transformed blue dragon with a hard stare, his slitted cerulean eyes reflecting only total seriousness, "She cannot be allowed to continue, that is true. But we cannot fight them both at the same time," the crimson giant replied in a tone that brokered no tolerance for debate. To his knowledge Sintharia is the first black dragon to ever be freed from corruption, he wasn't so arrogant to believe that it was his words alone that turned her from Deathwing's madness, something invoked this change in the former consort, and he needed to know what. Additionally there was his queen to think about.

Neltharion's betrayal had deeply hurt Alexstrasza, but had not managed to burn away her love for him. Never once in his memory had his queen ever desired to kill Deathwing for his transgressions, but rather she wanted to save him. No matter how far the Earth Warder fell, her new anger for his atrocities was not greater than her old fondness for her brother. The Lifebinder would have payed any price to get her brother back; but now that he was gone it had died down to saving his flight, and Sintharia could be the key to realizing his love's greatest desire.

* * *

><p>Back with Sintharia and Dargonax, the battle had escalated into a war. Using the elementals as cannon fodder was working well for Sintharia at the moment, but Dargonax was quickly recovering from being robbed of so much energy. The balance of power was beginning to turn away from her however, Dargonax was mulching the elementals by the dozen and her lava giant had fallen as well.<p>

Fortunately she was used to dealing with the abrupt turns of battle. Sintharia had gotten into countless battles with other dragons and internecine squabbles within her own Flight over the course of her long and damnable life. And dealing with a recovering adversary was something she had learned to live with. She was already formulating a new stratagem for getting rid of Dargonax.

One of the reasons why she kept Balacgos's Bane close at hand was in the expectation that her creations could turn on her, she not only used it to empower Dargonax, but also so she could put him down when the day came that he outlived his usefulness to her. But the artifact had been destroyed. Unfortunately, both the cube and the Demon Soul had been destroyed a short while ago. But in spite of the loss, she still had a card left to play. Or a piece. Or whatever you used to spectacularly defeat your enemy in grim turnaround.

Dargonax bellowed in triumph as he phased into his incorporeal form, Sintharia spat a curse in draconic and dived toward the rupture in the side of the mountain that led into the derelict dwarven fortress, the battles that had taken place within it's halls had brought it into a deeper state of ruin. Dargonax true to his obsessions, chased after her.

There would be only one chance. If she failed, she would not survive the consequences. _Curse you Korialstrasz for ruining everything! _She thought vehemently as she touched down into an eroded hall, her claws tearing up the marble as she trotted as fast as she could now that there was no more room to fly.

She heard Dargonax crashing after her, his guttural snarls signaling his rapid approach as they grew steadily louder. _Yes, my child. Follow me into your tomb. _Sintharia knew that she would never be able to best Dargonax in a direct confrontation, without the shard she used to control him, she was outclassed. But one thing that Dargonax lacked was guile, he was all power and no creativity behind it. This would be his undoing.

Sintharia's clawed feet skidded on the smooth floor as she rounded a turn sharply, she was close to her final objective. She closed quickly to a white marble building set into the far end of a large atrium, she was already changing by the time she reached it. In seconds she transformed into her human guise, and was working the crude bipedal anatomy overtime to carry her through the small doorway.

Moments later, Dargonax crashed into the atrium. Rubble and detritus was spilled in his wake as he forced his immense form through the narrow archway that connected it to the corridor behind him. At this moment, the gargantuan amethyst fiend was possessed of a single desire: to devour all that was Sinestra.

"You cannot hide! I will find you – feast on your drained corpse!" He screeched, searching for the damnable dragoness that for too long had been allowed control over his destiny. He had already surpassed her, and now it was time to take her head.

He charged for the building at the other end of the atrium, not bothering to slow down or turn ethereal, instead opting to smash his massive skull against the mortal-made structure's fastness, smashing through quarried rock, mortar, and iron with little effort as he tore into the building's vast entry hall. Gilded columns, and bronze statues dedicated to revere heroes of the Wildhammer dwarves lined the walls, at the end of the chamber was a large collection of arcane machinery and various forms of magical lab equipment. Sinestra stood before it in her weak mortal form.

"I never had any intention of hiding from you my foolish child!" She cackled with glee, "You will never be able to surpass me!"

Rage flooded Dargonax's profane soul, anger so profound black tears of pure fury leaked out from his reddened eyes. "I will be free of you!" He screamed as he plowed towards her with reckless abandon.

Sintharia merely smiled, and raised a gray cube shaped object in front of her, green markings of draconic nature swirled upon all six faces. With a gesture, the cube launched away from Sintharia and towards the rapidly closing Dargonax. The small object struck the Twilight in the chest, and it's effects were immediate and profound.

From the moment it first came into her possession, Balacgos's Bane had fascinated Sintharia, it's ability to gather the unharnessed latent magical energy of the world was nothing short of amazing. The power one could wield with such a device was simply sublime. But Sintharia ever hungered for more power, and had tried to reverse engineer the artifact. The result was disappointing. Her attempt to copy Balacgos's creation had ended in failure, the device worked, but it was far too dangerous for her to wield without possibly killing herself.

The moment Sintharia's artifice made contact with Dargonax, it immediately fused to his flesh and pulsed erratically. Dargonax screamed in agony as his life force was rapidly pulled from his body and forced back in, twisted and misshapen by the flawed arcane mechanisms imbued into the cube.

_"AAARRRRGHHH! KILL YOU! AUUUUGHHHH!" _The tormented twilight dragon roared, Sintharia threw off her mortal shell like muddied shoes, and charged her twisted son, maw wide as she blasted a gout of lava onto him. Evidently, the Faux Bane caused Dargonax so much pain, it made him unable to turn ethereal. Which suited Sintharia just fine.

Her claws raked against his corrupted hide, scales and flesh were torn asunder as she savagely assaulted the weakened Dargonax. The tortured behemoth flailed out in pain fueled desperation, one blow caught Sintharia by the shoulder, making her wince in pain as she was thrown aside by his superior strength. But she also managed to get past him.

Sintharia gathered her borrowed power and reached even deeper into the fabric of Azeroth, forcing it to bend to her will in ways that without Zzeraku were impossible. The world rebelled at her mishandling of it's bounty, but she strove on regardless. She would come to forever regret what would follow.

The region around Grim Batol was suddenly struck by an earthquake of unheard of magnitude. The entire mountain shook as if struck by the hammer of a wrathful god, Sintharia cast one last gloating look at Dargonax's flailing form before taking off as the burning mount crashed down around her. She did not know what providence protected her from being crushed by the deluge of falling rubble, but at this point she did not care. She retraced her path to the breach as the halls of Grim Batol bent and sagged deeper into the earth.

As the breach came into view, Sintharia lurched into the air, narrowly avoiding a tumbling block of masonry as it crashed down from the overburdened ceiling. As she cleared the mountain, she twisted about to witness it collapsing inexorably into it's foundations. It was reaching the breaking point.

Suddenly there was an explosion, an explosion so loud that everyone within miles of Grim Batol was instantly deafened. Including Sintharia. The black consort wailed and lost altitude as her ear drums felt like they had imploded, she landed roughly on the ground just as the dust cloud thrown up by the collapsing mountain rolled over her and blocked out the sun. The earth twisted and churned beneath her, the unnatural earth tremors echoing the fury she had bestowed upon the elements.

_**"What-have-you-done?" **_She heard Mytheria's sobbing cries in her mind. _**"How could you?"**_

Sintharia ignored the voice, all that mattered was that she was victorious. Dargonax was now crushed under thousands of tons of rock. Now all that was left to do was wait for her hearing to return, then fulfill the terms of her contract.

The whining pitch in her ears gradually died down, and her ear plates popped as her hearing returned to her. She could now hear and feel the earth moaning beneath her claws, and knew she had inflicted terrible injury upon the land. A heavy sour sensation settled in her gut, making her feel distinctly unwell. _Is this what guilt feels like? _She wondered, the emotion felt so foreign to her.

She gazed through the thin films of her secondary eyelids as the heavy winds gradually dispersed the dust cloud. And as she perceived her surroundings, she saw that she was now on the opposite side of a cliff edge. Confusion wracked through her, she remembered no such feature being in Grim Batol's vicinity. But as the dust cleared further, her eyes widened in horrified understanding.

Where Grim Batol once stood, there was now a gaping chasm, nearly four hundred meters across and, and nearly six times that in length. The other ledge rose nearly a hundred meters overhead, steeped at an angle.

Sintharia blinked rapidly, she absolutely could not believe she had created this with her own will. Something had happened, something terrible. A violent wind gusted forth from the chasm, carrying the unmistakable stench of pure unadulterated rage. The fury of the planet itself, it's already tainted song twisted into a menacing cacophony, calling out to her like a choir of the damned.

This was not right, she had only meant to destroy the mountain, not... not this.

Sintharia quickly tried to block out the enraged choler the song had taken to. This was not her problem, everything she had done today was validated by the outcome. And woe betide any who would suggest differently.

* * *

><p>Korialstrasz lifted his wings away from the group that they had previously encircled. He had made sure they were unharmed by Sintharia's reckless stunt. As his eyes surveyed the mind boggling devastation, all he could feel was loss. He wasn't sure if she was trying to crack Azeroth in half, but she sure as Fel came close. He had not witnessed such devastation since the Sundering.<p>

He transformed into Krasus to properly join his companions as they all gawked at what Sintharia's actions had wrought. All struck speechless at the enormity of it. Rhonin was the first to regain his voice. "H-how?!"

How indeed? Sintharia was a potent force to be reckoned with, surely; but this was beyond the ken of normal dragonkind, only the Earth Warder himself could have pulled something like this off... and he was dead.

"I do not know my friend," Krasus said turning to him, "She should not have been able to do this."

"She... is coming," Iridi gasped weakly. Before any could wonder what the dying draenei meant, the blustering reports of leathery wings provided them the obvious answer.

Sintharia landed before them, head held high like a conquering goddess. The renegade consort looked truly pleased with herself, in spite of the fact that all of her plans had been thoroughly brought to ruin.

"So you survived after all," she remarked idly, her golden topaz eyes resting upon them.

All present glared daggers at her, but the infamous dragoness did not seem to care.

"You've lost Sintharia, your Twilight dragons are no more," Krasus said, glowering at the creature that had caused him no end of grief since her fall to darkness.

"Hmm, so they are," she affirmed, her sharp matronly voice betrayed no particular displeasure at the fact, on the contrary it only conveyed contentment. "My time is short so I will be brief, I shall now fulfill my part of the bargain."

Sintharia raised her forefoot and pointed a claw directly at Iridi, her body shimmered as a greenish cloak of mist flowed from her scales, and channeled through her extended appendage. It flowed down upon Iridi who arched as it seeped into her skin.

"Release her, now!" Kalec thundered as he assumed his true form, unconcerned by how weak he currently felt, and the fact that Sintharia was far larger, and stronger than he was.

"It was a fair deal!" Sintharia snapped angrily at him, "Zzeraku helped me destroy Dargonax, just as I wanted. And he gets to throw his existence away to save _her _just as he wanted." She waved her claw away as the last of Zzeraku's essence flowed into the now evenly breathing draenei priestess. "And now, with this power he has given me, it is my turn to sit the throne of my deranged shell of a former mate, nobody is making an exile of me ever again!"

The moment her rant ended, the silence was broken by a loud explosion, and an anger filled roar. Everyone turned to see a familiar purple form erupting from the broken ground. His hide was bloody, and broken. The Faux Bane was still burried in his chest, still pulsing malevolently as it pumped his essence in and out. But it appeared that Dargonax had finally decided to move beyond silly inconvenient things like pain, as he took to the dust choked skies, and blocked out the sun with his girth. Dargonax looked down at the assembly of dragons and mortals, his eyes burning with infinite madness and insanity.

**"I WILL NOT BE UNDONE! THIS WORLD IS MINE!"**


End file.
